The Final Sunset
by Phoenix Dace
Summary: A squad of Terran marines take part in the assault in the Overmind on Aiur, playing parts much bigger than they know. Rated PG-13 for violence and language.
1. Default Chapter

AN: Forgive it if it's crap. Also, please review.  
  
Note: Rated for language and violence/gore.  
  
Disclaimer: In all of the chapters of this story I own none of the characters and nothing from StarCraft, but those that I make up I do own.  
  
Chapter One – Making Plans, a Send-Off  
  
First Lieutenant Chris Alexander rolled over in his bed as an alarm went off beside him. He sat up, blinking to clear the sleep from his eyes. On the screen in front of him was the face of Marshall James Raynor. He looked grim, greeting Alexander with a grim "Morning, James."  
  
Alexander grunted. "What is it?"  
  
"We've arrived over Aiur. Get your squad together; meet me in the briefing room. Ten minutes. Bring your gear."  
  
"Right. Thanks for details," Alexander grumbled, switching off the screen and collapsing back onto his bed, groaning. "Damn it. Damn it. Damn it."  
  
Come on, Chris. You've trained for this day for years. You may not be from Char, or Aiur, or Mar Sara, or any of the dozens of worlds the Zerg have destroyed, but you hate the fucking bastards. You've been training as a commando for years, and with Raynor since he left Mar Sara. You can do this.  
  
He rolled off his bed, struggling into a set of loose clothes, designed to be worn under a set of Marine armour, and walked out the door of his room, down the hall to the next one, opening it and rousing a man there from his deep sleep, one arm hanging off the bed. He opened one eye, letting Alexander know he was awake, making an unintelligible grunt.  
  
"Tom, get the guys together. Get them in their gear; bring 'em to the briefing room. Raynor's got a mission for us."  
  
Tomas Hendricks was First Sergeant of Able Squad, Second Platoon, Bravo Company of the 3rd Alliance Ground Division, one of the Terran divisions under Raynor. He sat up and looked at Alexander. "Really?"  
  
"Yeah. We're at Aiur, man. Get dressed, suit up, meet me there."  
  
With that Alexander turned and walked out the door, back down to his room, and opened the Titanium-Steel cabinet that held his armour. He pulled it out, stepping into the pants and closing them tightly around his waist, then pulling the torso on, locking it down onto the top of the pants and watching the armour-plating slide down to complete the protection of the suit. Pulling a headset from the cabinet, he put it on his head, then pulled the helmet out, sliding it onto the top of the torso, locking it into place and hearing the hiss as the plates slid down, protecting the weak joints at the neck.  
  
He turned back into the cabinet, pulling out a set of two straps. One went around his waist hanging down at his right side, the other around his waist. On his right side was his sidearm. On the belt around his waist was all his gear: Night Vision, glow sticks, medical tools, everything. He reached back into the cabinet, pulling out his completely customized Gauss Rifle. He simply stood there for a moment, looking at himself in the reflection from a full-length mirror in the cabinet. Then he walked to the window, looking out the small viewport at the world of Aiur.  
  
Aiur looked like it could have been beautiful once, green and lush, with vegetation and water, grasslands and wonderful places to see. However, now much of the surface of the planet was covered in the ominous purple of the Zerg Creep. The remains were blackened and smoking. However, from above it looked peaceful, as if the sides had reached a standstill. However, Alexander knew that wasn't true. They were simply so high up, looking down from the Hyperion, that they could see nothing.  
  
Alexander sighed, walking out of the door of his room, hearing the small noises that a trained ear could pick up as he walked, the marine armour hissing and clanking. It was a serious downside to the protection provided by the armour that it hissed and clanked so much. Anyone could hear them coming miles away. Some people in his squad had tried to remove that noise, to be stealthy, and a few had succeeded, including Hendricks. Alexander had never gotten around to it, even working with PFC Frederick Black, the squad's technical specialist. But that was a topic for a different day. Now he was just worried about getting to the briefing.  
  
-  
  
Alexander arrived before everyone else, even Raynor, sitting down on one of the benches and looking at the screen lowered behind where Raynor would stand, allowing him to show them pictures or diagrams. The room was fairly large, allowing briefings of up to around 500 people, including the higher level. This was useful, because it allowed people to brief entire companies or command crews at once.  
  
Raynor arrived next, walking in from a door beside the screen. He looked harried, black circles under his eyes from lack of sleep. Physical exhaustion was overcoming him, but he had to be awake because they had arrived at Aiur. He gave a weak, tired smile to Alexander, and watched as the rest of Alexander's squad filed in.  
  
No more than twelve people in total, counting Alexander and Hendricks, the squad was a motley arrangement of men and women. They were good, no doubt about it, just a little random. But Raynor had no one better for this mission. "Howdy, boys," he muttered to them through a microphone as they came in. He could hear footsteps from the few of them not in Marine armour, and hisses, whirs and clanks from several of those with armour, just metallic footsteps from the rest. They were carrying a strange arrangement of weapons, everything from sniper rifles and machine guns to carbines.  
  
They seated themselves, and Raynor started to talk, holding a controller in his hand and fiddling with it as he talked, using it to change a projector for pictures on the screen. "Good day, boys," he said into the mike, trying to sound normal although it was obvious he was dead on his feet. "We've arrived over Aiur, and the Protoss have helped us come up with a plan. The Zerg don't know we're here yet. That's our main idea. Now, you guys aren't going to like this mission, but it's important and I've got no-one better."  
  
A smattering of short, half-hearted laughs went through a few of the squad as Raynor clicked the controller. The projector whirred, showing a picture of a battlecruiser.  
  
Raynor continued. "This is the battlecruiser Victory. It was assigned on a mission to Aiur to scout out the planet, ahead of the main force, but to remain unseen. It's modified to contain a cloaking device and other stealth technology, and the crew is trained in the use of these and the art of avoiding being seen, even by Zerg. We assumed it would be okay. We were wrong."  
  
"We arrived in orbit over Aiur to find the Victory dead in space, nothing powered on or anything, sitting there. It has responded to no hails or signals. We need to know what happened, so we're sending you guys over."  
  
A series of groans went through the squad. Raynor glared at them. "This is an important mission. If this battlecruiser is operational and not under our control, it becomes a very dangerous wildcard, as it's the stealthiest ship we've got. If it turned against us it could cause a lot of damage while we didn't have defenses up, and then disappear and strike again when we don't expect it. We need you folks to investigate while the rest of the force begins the invasion of Aiur. I know you don't like it, but that's just the way it is."  
  
He clicked the controller again, and the projector changed to a picture of a set of hangar doors. "These are the hangar doors of the Victory. We have the access codes, and we're going to send you in a dropship that will land in the hangar. You guys spread out across the ship. If you find anything, report back from the dropship and get further instructions. Your objective is to get to the bridge." He clicked the projector again, switching to show a view of a battlecruiser bridge. "And then you will power up the communications and contact the Hyperion. We'll give you instructions from there. Any questions?"  
  
The room was silent for a moment, and then Corporal Harry "Slammer" Rakes raised his hand. "Sir, will we be rejoining the main assault force afterwards?"  
  
Raynor responded fairly quickly. "Depending on what you find, yes or no. We may need you for another special assignment."  
  
Rakes nodded. "Thanks."  
  
The room was silent for about half a minute. Then Raynor sighed in relief. "Dismissed. Report to the hangar and Dropship T-067. Your pilot is Chief Warrant Officer Carrie Jules. She has the access codes for the hangar doors. Report to her and she'll tell you what to do."  
  
The squad rose, picking up their assorted weaponry and equipment and walking off towards the hangar, grumbling about their mission. Investigating a drifting ship was something a Science Team would be able to handle better. Some Analysts, a couple Marines as an escort, it would be fine. But no, Raynor was sending in Special Forces. It was just stupid in their eyes.  
  
They reached the hangar, introducing themselves to Jules. She introduced them to her co-pilot, Emmanuel "Emmy" Desra, and then they climbed in the back. "Ready to go," Jules told them, while Desra got clearance from the control to leave. It was granted, and they slowly flew out into the airlock. As the doors closed behind them and the space doors opened in front of them, the dropship flew out and turned towards the drifting battlecruiser off in the distance. Rakes turned to Alexander. "Hey, Chief, why're we going out here?"  
  
"You heard the Marshall," Alexander replied, lying back against the bulkhead and closing his eyes. "We need to investigate the battlecruiser."  
  
"Yeah, but a Science Team would do just as well," Rakes responded. "Why's he sending a dozen Spec Ops guys?"  
  
"Why do you expect me to know, Harry?" Alexander replied. "I'm sure the Marshall has his reasons."  
  
"Yeah, like keeping us out of combat?" William "Rat" Antekk asked. "Why does Raynor want us out of combat? Did we do something wrong when we went up against those Confederate survivors on the Alabama?"  
  
"We did nothing wrong. Kyle got a special commendation for that mission," Alexander responded. Sergeant Kyle Sawyer, one of the men not in armour, grinned.  
  
"That reminds me," PFC Terry O'Connell, another Spec Ops guy in no armour commented, "I never congratulated you for that, Kyle. Where's the medal?"  
  
"Back in my bunk," Sawyer replied, "in my room. Safekeeping."  
  
O'Connell nodded. "Well now you told me, I might as well take it."  
  
"Good luck. It's got my name engraved in it," Sawyer replied.  
  
"Two minutes ETA," Desra told them. "Cut the chatter and load your weapons, boys. You're almost there."  
  
The squad was suddenly professional, locking and loading their weapons, checking they were okay. "Well, I guess this is it," Laura Day responded, checking the sights on her sniper rifle, then the large pistol she carried. She wore no armour, as it would just weigh her down. "Ready to go?"  
  
Her partner, Sara Adams, nodded. She wasn't a sniper, but another Spec Ops, wearing no armour and carrying a carbine. "Ready to go."  
  
"Headsets on," Alexander ordered. The squad reached up, flicking on their headsets. "Ready to go?" Alexander called.  
  
"Ready to go," the squad confirmed.  
  
"All right, boys, we're locked on the doors of the hangar, applying the access codes," Jules informed them. "Doors opening. Heading in."  
  
The squad sat there in tense silence, holding their weapons on their laps as the dropship cruised into the hangar of the Victory.  
  
AN: Blah. Forgive it if it sucks, but I'm tired and supposed to be doing homework. Until next chapter, bye. And review, please. And if you think I should change the rating up at any time, let me know. 


	2. Exploration

AN: Thanks to the two of you who reviewed. I'm not gonna beg, I'm not gonna say 'OMG wtf no1 reveweed!!! omfg RR plz or I wil sh00t myslf'  
  
I'm not like that, I hope. Whatever. If you want to review, do so.  
  
2nd AN: Yes, I know Raynor didn't have any medics, but he's more like a marine who's had some basic medical training. Don't bug me about "OMG wtf Raynur hadd no medix u r a stupid ..." etc. Just don't. You waste everyone's time.  
  
Chapter Two – Exploration  
  
The dropship set down against the floor of the hangar with the slightest of bumps. The doors opened quietly, a small hiss escaping from the edges of the doors, and the squad stepped out, several crouched around the edges of the door aiming their guns around, the flashlights attached to the bottoms of their rifles sending beams of white lights around the pitch-dark hangar.  
  
Alexander looked around, shining his light around the hangar, then thumbing his headset to a different frequency. "Jules," he said, talking to the pilot of the dropship.  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
"A little light around here?"  
  
Jules flicked a switch, and lights around the top of the dropship switched on, illuminating half of the hangar in a dull light. Alexander looked around. The hangar was empty. Completely empty. No dropships, Wraiths, or anything. Even the smaller craft that usually accompanied the battlecruisers were missing. There were no crates or cargo or anything around. The hangar was completely barren.  
  
"All right, that's just weird," Hendricks commented. "There's supposed to be stuff around."  
  
"Doesn't matter," Alexander sighed. "Right now, we've got bigger priorities. We have to get somebody to the reactor and power up the lifts so we can get to the bridge. Whoever goes will power up the lifts and the communications. And nothing else, got it? Who'll go?"  
  
Black was the first to raise his hand. "Sir, I'm familiar with the battlecruiser reactors. If I go, I can get the lifts and comm powered up. And turning on the comms and talking to the Hyperion isn't that hard. Somebody else can do that."  
  
Alexander nodded. "Right. Two more. Who's going?"  
  
Master Corporal Bruce Robins raised his hand. "I'll go. I'm quiet."  
  
Alexander thought for a moment. Robins was good. He was an excellent combat commander, and a good friend. He didn't say much, but he would take care of whoever was assigned to him. Alexander nodded. "All right, you're in. Who else?"  
  
"I'm in," Adams said, nodding her head. Don't see why not. I know the layout of this place."  
  
Antekk gave her a strange look. "Why?"  
  
"I read, Rat," Adams replied scathingly. "You'd learn a surprising amount if you ever picked up a book."  
  
Rat looked down at the floor, grumbling.  
  
Alexander nodded. "Adams, Robins, Black. Robins, you take command of the group, and you guys go. But hurry up. You need to be fast, because the longer we spend on this ship, the longer we're not helping fight on the surface. Let's rock and roll."  
  
Robins nodded. "Team, let's go." He picked up his rifle, walking away, his silenced marine armour making almost no noise as he walked along the metal deck of the hangar. The other two followed him, their rifles and carbines sweeping along sideways, shining lights attached to the bottoms of their rifles along the deck, except in the case of Adams. Her light was on the side, and a grenade launcher was stuck underneath.  
  
Alexander watched them until they faded into the darkness, still seeing the spots of light from their lights occasionally, then turned back to the eight remaining people. "All right, guys," he said. "Establish a perimeter here. Make sure the hangar is really empty, then get ready. Slammer, Day," The machine gunner and sniper raised their heads, "you guys are gonna stay here and guard the ship. The rest of us are gonna split into two teams of three and get to the bridge."  
  
He looked around. "I'll lead one team. Hendricks, you'll get the other. I'll take Sawyer and Williams." Jake Williams, the team medic, looked up.  
  
"Sir."  
  
Alexander continued. "O'Connell, Rat, you're with Hendricks. Don't get killed. If you encounter anything out of the ordinary, or any signs of life, contact me immediately. And if you get to the bridge before me, contact me and wait up."  
  
Hendricks nodded. "Yes, sir."  
  
"Now, spread out, team," Alexander ordered. "Check out the hangar. If you find anything, bring it back."  
  
He gestured to Hendricks to stay. "Tom."  
  
Hendricks nodded. "Yeah?"  
  
"Look, Tom, I need you to hold onto these guys. Rat doesn't like this mission. He won't be happy. Just keep them alive. And if you can ... try to calm him down some. This mission is important, despite what Rat and Slammer think."  
  
Hendricks nodded. "All right, Chris. I'll do my best."  
  
-  
  
Robins paused. A long, dark corridor loomed ahead of them. They had descended several flights of stairs, and gone through a room filled with pipes. According to Adams, this corridor was a food travelling passage from the cargo holds to the lifts which would take it to the kitchens. The cargo holds were in the back of the ship, and the reactor room was just past it. Robins turned to Adams, and whispered, "Sara."  
  
Adams turned back towards him. "Yes, corporal?" she responded quietly.  
  
"I'm gonna need to douse the lights. They won't work to see down this passage, but they would give away the fact we're here. I need you to take your NVGs and scout down the corridor. If you find anything, get behind cover and radio back."  
  
She nodded and smiled. "Roger that, sir."  
  
Robins held his hand out flat parallel to the floor, out from the right side of his body, and moved it in a motion downwards and back up a slight amount twice, as if pushing something down, the signal for 'Douse lights and shut the fuck up.' Adams reached into a pouch on her belt, pulling out a long narrow metal tube about afoot long, screwing it on the front of her carbine, suppressing it. She pulled out her sidearm and did the same, before reaching up and sliding a set of night-vision goggles onto her head. After receiving the signal from Robins, she stepped out silently into the corridor and began moving down it, crouched over.  
  
She moved down about eighty metres before stopping and taking cover in a doorway, her carbine pointed down the hallway, and whispering into her headset, "Corporal."  
  
She got an immediate, "Yes?"  
  
"I can see some light. Smoke is filling the hallway, that's why we couldn't see the light before. Nothing in the hallway but a couple of doors and they're all locked. Recommend you join me. Over."  
  
"Copy that. We're moving up to your position. How far away are you?"  
  
"About eighty metres down the passage, ten or so from the light. This passage runs a good quarter of the ship. Over."  
  
"Copy that. On our way. Lights dead. Over and out."  
  
Adams, crouched there with her gun pointed at the light, stayed for about two minutes, maybe three, before the other two joined her. Robins looked at the light. "Looks like an open door. How far from the back of the ship are we?"  
  
Adams shrugged. "Forty, fifty metres?"  
  
Robins looked around. "No signs of life. We're close to the reactor, though. We have to keep moving. How are the cargo holds shaped?"  
  
"It's one big hold for food and fuel, that's what we're walking into. It's a big room that takes up about a hundred metres long, the entire width of the ship, for three decks. This corridor cuts down the middle, goes about ninety metres in. We're most of the way through the hold already, I'd guess."  
  
Robins looked up, realization dawning. "So you're saying the lights in the hold are on?"  
  
"It looks like it, as long as that's the door to the hold up there," Adams replied.  
  
"From what you've said, it is. That means the doors on the sides were going to different parts of the hold. Where's the reactor room?" Robins asked.  
  
"Should be through a door past the hold," Adams replied.  
  
"You said there's about ten metres of hold through that door, it spreads out into two big rectangles on either sides of the ten metre stretch, and these rectangles go back on either side of the hallway and stretch all the way to the sides of the ship and the reactor room's twenty metres away from us right now."  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"That's one fucking huge cargo hold."  
  
"No kidding."  
  
Robins looked up at the light again. "All right. We're gonna move up and check it out. Adams, you go first and investigate to see what's ahead. Black, you and I'll go next after she says it's clear, or if she's fired upon or attacked. Got it?"  
  
"Sir," Black replied.  
  
"Got it," Adams told him.  
  
"Right. Adams, go."  
  
She stood up, hunched over, and moved up towards the door, crouching down on the right side and moving her carbine around, checking left and right, and the ceiling, three decks up. "Clear," she informed the others.  
  
"Right. Move up," Robins told them, moving up to meet her, Black following him. They6 looked out into the cargo hold, spreading out on either side, and ten metres across it, was the door to the reactor room. Robins looked at it longingly.  
  
"All right. Adams, I hate to send you out ahead again, but ..."  
  
"It's my job, corporal. I don't care."  
  
"Good," Robins replied. "Move to the door and cover from there. Black, you're gonna have to hack open the door. Access panel on the side, see? We'll cover you while you do. Don't worry."  
  
"Got it," Black replied.  
  
"Adams, go."  
  
Adams stood up quickly, running across the passage, then turning around and crouching on the other side of the door, looking around. "Clear."  
  
"Right. Go, Black," Robins told him, giving him a small shove to show him it was time.  
  
Black ran across the passage, slinging his rifle down at his side and opening the access panel, his fingers, thick in his gloves, dashing across the panel. Robins crossed the passage more slowly, looking around with his rifle. Every light in the hold was on.  
  
"Got it, corporal," Black told him. "You want me to open it?"  
  
"Not yet." Robins stationed himself beside the door, his rifle at the ready. Adams took the other side. "Now."  
  
The door slid open with a hiss, and the two jumped out, aiming their guns into the room.  
  
-  
  
Alexander was sitting at the edge of the door to the dropship, the visor on his helmet open. His rifle was sitting beside him, and he was letting his body rest. Command was tiring. Rat and Slammer had stopped to have cigarettes, the rest were covering. "Rat, Slammer," Alexander called out as they removed the cigarette packages from their armour. They ran over to him.  
  
"Yeah, sir?"  
  
"What if there's Zerg on this ship, and you bring every god damned one of them down on our heads with the smoke from those things? No smoking on missions. You should know that by now."  
  
Rat grumbled, Slammer shrugged, but they both put the cigarettes away.  
  
Suddenly Alexander's headset crackled into life. "Sir, we're in the reactor room." It was Robins' voice. Alexander sat up, reaching out to grab his rifle.  
  
"Get Black working. Report?"  
  
"Nothing out of the ordinary. Lights on in the cargo holds, smoke in the food passage, and there's a dead guy in the reactor room."  
  
"What?" Alexander sat straight up.  
  
"He's laying beside the reactor shut-down switch. I'd guess he turned it off before he got killed."  
  
"Cause of death?"  
  
"Looks like he got slashes by a large number of sharp objects. He's got cuts everywhere on his back, and he collapsed on his front. I'd say he got killed from behind, and fell forward, of course."  
  
"Good. How's Black doing?" Alexander asked.  
  
"He's done," Robins replied.  
  
"Damn, that boy's good," Alexander grumbled. "Good work, corporal. Wait three minutes, then report back to the hangar. You'll join Slammer and Day there, guarding the transport, while we make our way to the bridge."  
  
"Roger, sir."  
  
Robins signed off. Alexander turned to the rest of the squad. "Listen up!" They turned to face him. "We've got lifts and comms up. Teams, separate, and go by your routes. Hendricks, you know where you're going?' His answer was a nod. "Good. Move out."  
  
Sawyer and Williams followed Alexander as he moved out of the hangar through one of the main corridors, getting in a lift that would take them most of the way to the bridge. The lights were dim, but the lift worked. The three leaned against the walls in silence, waiting, as the lift moved upwards, finally stopping several decks below the bridge. "Out," Alexander hissed, and the three moved out, Sawyer and Williams covering. Alexander walked down the passage, followed by the other two, turning corners, and finally Alexander pointed up ahead. "The lift should be right there. Stay here and cover."  
  
The other two crouched down, hiding behind small outlets in the wall, about five metres apart, and Alexander walked up, his rifle shouldered. Suddenly, h9owever, about ten metres ahead, he stopped. A dim light was shining down here, with no visible source. Alexander lowered his rifle, holding it in one hand, looking into the pitch darkness ahead of him. His piercing glare cut through the darkness, but not well enough.  
  
With no prior warning, a Zergling about five feet long leapt out of the darkness straight at his chest, uttering a scream as it jumped.  
  
AN: I know I shouldn't leave you on cliffhangers, but whatever. 


End file.
